


Results Day

by vintage1983



Series: Educating Miss Granger [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consenting Adults, Discipline, F/M, Hogwarts, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 10:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage1983/pseuds/vintage1983
Summary: Now almost 21, Hermione has returned to Hogwarts to complete her exams. On results day everyone is delighted for her, except it seems for her Potions Master.Smutty one shot, just because!





	Results Day

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking a look!  
This is the first time I have written for Severus, please be kind!  
Those of you in the UK will probably be aware that the second and third Thursdays in August are exam results days for school leavers. I’m sure many of us have experienced highs and lows on those days, though sadly I suspect none of us had a results day quite like this one!  
If you are not old enough to have experienced this, you absolutely should not be here!  
A shameless smutty one-shot.  
Good luck to you, your kids, friends or loved ones receiving exam news.  
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are welcomed and loved. Reviews give me life.  
Vin x

Hermione Granger was almost 21. She had finally returned to Hogwarts to complete her NEWTS. It wasn’t entirely necessary, she wasn’t short of job offers, instead she did it for herself, to prove to what she could achieve. It was an act of pride. There had never been any doubt she was a capable and bright student; her teachers had said it, her parents always told her so and her peers had always regarded her as a swot. Still, somewhere there was a tiny scrap of doubt that niggled and worried at her, until she decided it was high time she did something about it. Hermione had been welcomed back into the school with open arms, she had studied hard, but now almost three years older than her classmates, she had often felt alone. The other pupils revered her, she almost had celebrity status; she had missed her friends.

Today was results day. The younger students buzzed and chattered, keen to reach the front of the line and receive their grades. Hermione was quiet, she hung back; she had waited so long, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Finally, she stepped forward. Her stomach flipped. Professor Mcgonagall handed her the thick gold envelope, though she didn’t notice, Minerva Mcgonagall was pressing her lips together tightly to repress her smile. It would spoil the surprise. Hermione was too consumed in what the envelope may contain. She reached for it meekly and opened it cautiously. Her results were wonderful, everything she could have hoped for and more. Relief and elation washed over her. The two women both beamed.

“Hermione Granger, you are without doubt one of the highest achieving students to ever attend this school. You should be proud of yourself, and to achieve so much in light of the undoubted disruption to your education is to be commended. Your service to this school, and beyond its walls is quite remarkable.”

A tear formed in Hermione’s eye, at the beautiful kind words of her teacher and headmistress, but the day was also tinged with sadness. She looked around at small groups of students cheering and congratulating each other. It made her wish with all her heart that Harry and Ron were there, and they had been able to share this day.

“Thank you, for everything,” she said with a sigh. Though she still smiled, the tears began to flow. Professor Mcgonagall hugged her tightly. It was what she needed.

“You are most welcome, dear girl. Know if academia should ever call to you, there is always a place for you at Hogwarts. Now dry your eyes and enjoy this moment. You have earned it.”

Others asked how she had done and offered heart felt congratulations. It was pleasant, but the empty hollow inside her lingered and she found herself drifting towards the back of the room. A dark figure loomed behind her: Severus Snape. After all that time, after everything that had happened, he still had the ability to startle and unnerve her.

“Professor Snape, I…”

“Were about to show off no doubt.”

Snape’s face was stony and unmoved. He stood out in the joyful clatter of laughter and celebration. Still he was sour faced and displeased.

“Miss Granger, I will see you in my room.”

It was not a question, but an order. What now? It was her final day at Hogwarts. Surely, he wasn’t going to explain the solitary dropped mark on her exam paper or admonish her for not screwing the top on a bottle tightly enough. He had picked and dug at her all year about every tiny error and mistake. Snape had certainly cut her no slack; in fact, he had been more of a tyrant than ever.

“Of course, Professor Snape. I just need to…”

“Now, Miss Granger. If you don’t mind.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Snape had already disappeared. Believing she may as well get it over with, she set off towards the potions room.

She was barely fifteen minutes behind him, delayed attending to a sobbing Leilani Brown who had not done as well as she had hoped. Hermione had found her slumped in a corridor and inconsolable. Deciding whatever Snape wanted could wait a few minutes, she had comforted her kindly.

Snape eyed her coldly when she entered the room.

“How good of you to join me,” he snarled. “I hope you were engaged in something important enough to warrant keeping me waiting. Basking in the light of your success, no doubt, but why change a habit that has plagued your entire education?”

His eyes bored into her. Still he could reduce her to a nervous schoolgirl.

“Actually, I stopped to help…”

“It is of no consequence.”

He paced the room, circling her. Hermione felt as if she were about to be devoured by a hungry shark.

“It has come to my attention, that you have achieved the highest mark in Potions, of any student I have taught at this school.”

“Oh, thank you I am rather pleased about it too.”

“Your arrogance betrays you again, Miss Granger. I am most displeased about it.”

Hermione was shocked. Even from Snape it seemed harsh and cruel. 

“But it’s good isn’t it? Surely it is. You could be a little bit pleased for me. It was you who taught me.”

There was a hint of anger in her voice. It blended with shock. He continued to move around her.

“I did teach you and I can assure you it was a challenge. Your irrepressible thirst for praise displeases me greatly.”

She stood, reeling and open mouthed.

“Everyone else has congratulated me.”

“I am not everyone else.”

Snape had stopped and now stood in front of her, only inches away. Hermione found her heartbeat had grown rapid and her breath shallowed. His eyes followed the line of her tongue as she licked her lips nervously.

“May I ask why?”

“Why?”

“You can’t be pleased for me. You are my teacher; I am your student. It seems well…” His eyes narrowed as she spoke. “It seems …wrong.”

“_Was_, your teacher, Miss Granger. I am no longer. You are a woman of almost 21. You have been allowed to return to this school to complete your examinations. Throughout the year your outbursts in my classroom, your smart remarks and know-it-all demeanour have irritated me no end. And yet, I am told you are an adult and apparently are above the sanctions I would apply to any other student.”

He had drawn closer. They were almost touching. Her throat dried. It scratched as she coughed lightly to clear it and the fine hairs on her arms prickled. There was anger and disappointment, but there was something else. A distant, dull ache drew closer, it grew and growled from deep within her. Need and want formed and gnawed at her. It was not the first time she had felt it in his presence. Hermione had always denied it, even to herself.

“Now, you are no longer a student and I am not bound by the rules and regulations of the school. I wish to be very clear; I intend… to punish you.” Snape leant closer; the low rumble of his voice poured into her ear. He spoke in a whisper. “Do you need it? I think you do.”

Hermione swallowed hard. She should turn and leave, but she was rooted to the spot as if buried to her waist in quicksand. Every breath was pronounced, his eyes fell to the visible rise and fall in her chest. She licked her lips again, this time nerves mingled with desire. He watched and she wanted him to. 

“That tongue of yours has not ceased wagging in the duration of your school career and now you are silent. I asked you, do you need it?”

“Yes, Sir,” tumbled out of her mouth. It was barely a squeak.

There was a tightening inside her, a deep, constricting ache twisting in her stomach and settling between her thighs. He said nothing. Her raggedly snatching for breath was the only sound.

“Good girl.”

The words made her gasp.

Snape stroked her cheek.

“Always seeking praise.”

He sighed.

She understood, fully and completely and she wanted and needed it. Hermione had never told a soul, she hardly dared imagine it and had buried her feelings deeply. They shot to the surface, almost too quickly and the bends had taken hold of her. She was uncertain her legs would hold her up as burning desire rose from her feet and shot through her body. Even the tips of her fingers tingled.

Snape moved behind her. She could feel his breath on her neck. Hermione closed her eyes tightly and focused on the sensation of it. His hand on her shoulder made her shudder at the contact, but she only craved more. It was an expression of guidance or dominance, perhaps both. In this moment, she wanted and needed both. The length of his body pressed against her and she leant into it, searching for touch.

“Bend over the desk.”

Hermione squeezed her eyes closed even tighter. Lust spiked within her. It stabbed at her so hard it was almost physically painful. She felt it surge between her legs and it manifested itself in a hoarse cry.

“Yes, Sir.”

Her words were rapid as if forced out in a trained, military response.

Unsteadily she stepped forward and leant over the heavy wooden desk. _His_ desk. Bottom high in the air, she propped herself up on her elbows. Snape studied her and said nothing. Looking back over her shoulder, she chewed wickedly at her lip. It was an effort to torment him as he tormented her. She was attempting to regain some control of the situation. It was not wasted on him, nor was it tolerated.

“Eyes forward,” he barked.

The sharpness of the command made her head snap back. She complied immediately. It aroused her more, his dominance so easily reasserted. Snape dragged her skirt up. It bunched at the waist. There was a pause. The urge to turn and look was strong, but Hermione resisted. A single, aggressive yank sent her plain, white cotton underwear tumbling down.

Hermione cried out.

“Silence,” he hissed.

The air against her bare flesh made her shudder. Shame flushed on her face. She thought how she must look, it bothered her for a second, but it passed, as she was consumed by the urgency she now felt.

“Part your legs,” he commanded.

Hermione shuffled until her underwear caught at her ankles and prevented her moving any further. She questioned if she should kick them off and free herself, but the restriction felt so good. It deepened the thudding ache within her. She longed to release a moan of excitement, but held it in.

“Are you ready and willing to receive your punishment?”

“Yes, Sir. I am.”

Hermione forgot his instruction and turned to say something else.

“Face forward,” he growled before she could speak. 

There was a loud slap as the palm of his hand struck against the soft flesh of her behind. Hermione took a deep breath, absorbing the delicious stinging sensation it left behind. Warmth spread and bloomed. She knew she should be horrified and disgusted by this humiliation; she wasn’t. Instead it thrilled her; it made her feel alive. Hermione craved more.

“You will count them.”

Hermione nodded, unable to speak.

The wait was agony. She knew his hand was hovering in position. The first had made her blood pump faster and sent a jolt of electricity through her limbs. The heat and sting were subsiding. She needed to feel it again.

“For your insolence and flagrant disregard of school rules.”

He struck her, harder than before.

“One.”

“For your incessant chatter and need to pass comment on everything.”

“Two.”

Snape hit the same spot again. Heat spread across her cheeks. It was more painful than the last and Hermione sucked air in through her teeth. She did not cry out, she still held it within herself and used it. Hot, damp stickiness was pooling and gathering. She felt it and loved it.

“For your burning desire to answer every question and your smug satisfaction at being right.”

“Three, four.”

Two strokes came rapidly in succession against the other cheek. It burned. The ache inside her now thumped determinedly. The initial shock began to dull. He struck her again.

“Five.”

This time she whimpered in pain, lust and desperation. She felt herself grow wetter.

“For your failure to conceal your own delight at your cleverness.”

There was another pause. It only drew more need from her. Hermione was virtually sobbing in need and frustration. She didn’t want it to end.

“There will be seven more. Do you believe you can endure it?”

“Yes,” she whined. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks, “please, yes.”

She could and she would. Her backside was on fire, but she would not weaken or ask him to stop.

“Very well. For your first year.”

He waited.

Finally, it came.

“Six,” she rasped.

“And your second.”

It burned so much. She struggled to respond. Thick, gloopy tears poured out.

“Do you wish me to stop?”

“Seven,” she forced out in a broken cry.

“The third, fourth and fifth.”

Three relentless strokes came. Hermione moaned wildly now and forced out each number. The imprint of his hand on her cheeks glowed and radiated. She felt it. Hermione dripped and leaked onto the desk. Aware of it, she imagined him dragging her by the hair and demanding she cleaned up the mess, insisting she licked up every drop.

“Eight, nine, ten.”

“Your sixth year.”

Hermione adored and loved the harsh slaps against her skin. She had not known or dreamt she could feel like this. There was liberation in relinquishing herself so completely. 

“Eleven.”

She called it out boldly, louder than before as if she had found new life and was revitalised. Though she still shook and sobbed, she felt strong and free.

“And finally,” he spoke slowly in a low whisper, he drew it out, “for your seventh year. Where you have tormented me from your desk, making eyes at me, crossing and uncrossing your legs, existing purely and only to antagonise me.”

His arm was raised high. The final blow came.

“Twelve.”

Hermione wept, not from the hurt, but that it was over. She hungered for more. Her skin prickled. Her bottom pulsed in pain, but it was drowned out by the desperate throb.

There was silence, save her panting and the fainter sound of Snape’s own slightly laboured breathing.

“There, Miss Granger, you have taken your punishment so well.”

He had moved away. Frustration welled in her. That couldn’t be it. She turned her head to face him.

“You can’t.” Her glassy eyes pleaded with him. “You can’t leave me here, like this.”

“How is it that you are…left?”

Wild with desperation she dipped her fingers into herself and held them up, slick and glistening.

“Like this.”

He scanned her, giving away nothing.

“What do you propose I do to remedy your situation?”

“Touch me, fuck me, anything?”

A smirk threatened at the corner of his mouth. He would not let it take over. Snape’s eyes bored into her, black with lust.

He sighed deeply.

“As you wish.”

A sharp flick of his finger gestured at her to turn away. She complied. He ghosted over the red, raw marks on her cheeks. It renewed and fuelled her lust. Softly and barely there, he traced a long, pale digit between her slickened folds.

“Oh yes, please, yes,” she whimpered back at him.

He repeated the action, firmer this time, increasing the pressure, but still with teasing slowness. Hermione whined again. She opened to him so easily, the pad of his forefinger seeking and finding her fat, needy clit. She winced from the tenderness. Snape withdrew it at once. Hermione wailed. He returned it, this time pressing and testing. She revelled in it and lay flat against the cool surface of the desk, her arms stretched out in front of her, her back arching like a cat. He began to work and rub at her most sensitive spot, his body would brush against her still tender cheeks and send a fresh spike of pleasure, the two feelings so completely connected and inseparable to her now. Rocking against his touch, her hips rolled involuntarily as he circled and teased. He would stop, only to make her keen for more.

Hermione longed to feel filled. Snape sense it and drew his finger across her dripping slit, finding that hot, tight entrance. She heard his hiss as he pushed into her, one finger, then a second, pumping them in and out of her, stretching and opening her to him. It was everything, she was lost in the feel of him, in and out, twisting and corkscrewing, her cries now wild and uncontrolled.

“Please, I want it. I need it. Please.”

Her face still dampened with tears, she was ready to burst and sob and cry for it. She couldn’t help but look at him. He looked back at her through heavy-lidded eyes. He nodded.

She tremored at the first brush of his hard length over the soreness of her bottom. It reminded her of the overwhelming feelings she had as he had spanked her. Hermione wanted to keep that feeling and never forget it or lose it. He tapped at her leg, silently commanding her to step out of her underwear that still trailed at her ankles and pushed her legs apart. His cock nudged at her opening, almost but not quite within her. Snape understood the value of patience and anticipation, of making her wait. He stroked the tip across her opening, and she writhed against it. He teased until he could stand it no longer and he plunged into her.

Soft moans grew sharp and he buried himself within her. Remaining still he allowed her to absorb the feeling of fullness. Hermione felt complete. He moved in and out, gripping her narrow hips and pressing deeper into her. He pulled back, almost withdrawing from her completely, eliciting a rough cry from her, urging him to drill into her again. Hermione clenched the muscles within her, squeezing him tighter, holding him, purposefully trying to break his restraint. Snape made a deep guttural sound. She smirked and squeezed again, as hard as she could, holding it, holding him within her walls.

“Enough witch, enough.”

The control he had held on to broke. Her tightness gripping him, the hot, sticky heat of her took over. He was rough and urgent, driving into her. His fingers dug into her skin, marking and bruising her, but she didn’t care. Snape fucked her; the heel of his hand pressed into her back, pinning her to the desk as she squirmed beneath it.

Hermione felt it bubbling and building within her, a hot tingling sensation. He was in her and on her, panting and pounding in an out of her willing body. The thumping and thudding, the sound of her ragged breath and the rhythmic bang of the desk against the stone floor were drowned out. A series of short, sharp slaps to her already ravaged cheeks sent her over the edge. It burst within her.

“Yes, yes, please, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

She was there. Her body stiffened. It came so hard it pulled the air from her lungs as she rode out each glorious wave of pleasure. He did not stop, but was relentless, fucking it out of her until her limbs went limp. Snape followed her rapidly, grunting out in hard thrusts as hot liquid spilled into her. With a final, triumphant cry, he was sated.

Suddenly, he was gone from her. They said nothing.

She drew herself to her feet, unable to look at him, and made herself decent, her underwear instantly soaked from him and her. Hermione tugged down her skirt and straightened it. She dragged and patted at her unruly hair, certain each time she only made it worse.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, unsure of what to say.

“Gratitude is unnecessary. You may consider that your punishment and your reward.”

“I don’t know what to…”

“Nothing,” he cut in. “You need say nothing. Go into the world and excel. I have no doubt that you will.”

Hermione nodded.

“I…”

He raised his hand to silence her. Snape shook his head, his mouth curled into a smile.

She smiled back.

“That will be all, Miss Granger.”

Results day had turned out to be more of a surprise than she could have imagined. It had been a very good day indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.  
Let me know what you thought and don’t be shy, I’m not!


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